A Christmas Carol
by perfectvelvet
Summary: Madeline is visited by three Ghosts on Christmas Eve who try to teach her that Paul is an integral part of her life.
1. Chapter 1 of 5

Title: A Christmas Carol  
Authors: perfectvelvet and ladydrake  
Rating: PG-13 for language and some sensuality, O/Ma  
Synopsis: Madeline is visited by three Ghosts on Christmas Eve who try to teach her that Paul is an integral part of her life.  
Notes: This story was originally written for the 2001 holiday season. Two years later, we thought it might be kind of fun to re-introduce it to the LFN fandom. Enjoy and happy holidays! 

Disclaimer: The characters from "La Femme Nikita" belong to LFN Productions, Warner Bros., and USA Network, among others. No infringement is intended. This story is a take on the Charles Dickens classic "A Christmas Carol," so some situations have been borrowed from the book. 

_A Christmas Carol_ 1/5  
by perfectvelvet and ladydrake 

"You're going to let her go through with it?" 

Paul regarded her with an assured smile. "Yes. I think it's a good idea." 

Madeline folded her arms across her chest, still skeptical. "How so?" 

"Christmas comes but once a year. By allowing Nikita to host a holiday dinner, morale will increase, thereby increasing mission performance. Plus, it offers us a bit of control over the operatives; if we let them think we're catering to their needs for affection, they might see us in a more positive light." 

"Christmas is a religious holiday, and if you haven't noticed, no one believes in God anymore. Or Allah or Buddha or any supreme deity for that matter." 

"But Christmas is about joy...and peace..." He moved in closer to her, snaking an arm around her waist. "...and love." 

She slid out of his embrace and backed away. "And love, like parties, has no place in Section!" 

"Well, it can't hurt anything. Besides, there will be some good food." 

Madeline stared at him in disbelief. "You're incorrigible." 

He gave a little shrug before stepping close to her again. "By the way...I got you something. A little Christmas gift." 

"Give it to someone else; I'm not coming." She pivoted on her heel and walked out of the Perch. 

She strode purposefully to her office, hiding her emotions behind a stone mask. It wasn't that she wanted to deny his affections, she just didn't know if she could reciprocate. She had been unloved for so long that she couldn't imagine trying to express feelings as deep as those that he shared so openly and easily. Did she even have them? 

And this party... It was silly. Pointless. Humbug! Who wanted to spend an un-celebrated holiday with the people who decided whether they lived or died? However, Paul's reasoning made sense. A dinner would boost morale, and that often led to increased mission performance. Madeline shook her head. She wasn't about to go back on her word now. 

Once she reached her office, she sat at her desk in a kind of painful relaxation, as she let the thoughts of her absence at the party tomorrow morning fade away into the depths of her subconscious. 

_No one will really notice if I'm not there,_ she determined silently. With those words, the thoughts and emotions that had surfaced were effectively sealed. 

But then, in a flurry of mental activity that was much faster and stronger than those which helped to bury them, the thoughts arose again. Only this time others began to follow. Madeline was at once rushed with visions of a thousand moments in her life, and her whole body shook at the experience. "Madeline..." a melodic voice beckoned to her. 

Suddenly a noise arose as well. Even with the force of these sensations consuming her mind, she was still able to maintain a small amount of control over her senses, and her brain briefly sputtered the questions, "What is happening to me? Am I going insane, or has Section been infiltrated? Who is this that invades my mind?!" 

The noise grew louder, the combination of an incredible multitude of screams which had coalesced into one abhorrent wail. It seemed like something was being pulled from another dimension, another sphere of time, and her mind was the gateway. Madeline clutched her head, as serious pain began to accompany this grotesque sound. Her last thought before the experience subsided was brought into words: "What is happening to me?" 

When she lifted her head, she noticed a woman standing in front of her. Madeline gasped, jumping out of her chair. The figure was transparent and looked a bit like herself, when she was a young woman. There were no holo-emitters in her office, and she knew she was awake. 

The woman floated toward her, and Madeline shrank into a corner. "Who are you?" she demanded breathlessly. 

"Don't let your fear cloud your perception," came the haunting reply. Then, in an all-too-familiar child's voice, she continued, "You know me." 

Madeline pressed her trembling fingertips against the wall. "Sarah?" 

The ghost looked around the office. "Still closing yourself off, I see." 

She followed the gaze, trying to determine what had prompted the statement but gave up after a moment. "Sarah...you're dead." 

Sarah's eyes returned to Madeline, piercing her soul. "You were never this cold as a child; why the change?" 

Madeline blinked, stunned. "You were always the favorite. Mother shunned me after your death, blamed me for the incident on the landing. If I'm cold, it's because of her." 

"No, it's because of you. You've had ample opportunity to change your situation, but in the end, it always comes back to dominance. The doll, for instance--a symbol of power. If you hadn't fought for the doll, this never would have happened." 

"Well, if you hadn't taken it from me in the first place, I--" Madeline stopped speaking and shook her head. "What am I doing? You're not real." 

Sarah began to scream, a loud, high-pitched shriek. Madeline covered her ears but didn't ask her to stop. Anyone in Systems should be able to hear the noise and would be on their way, punching in the override codes to save her from this hellish waking nightmare. But no one came. Even after Sarah had calmed down, there was still silence in the corridor. Maybe she was dreaming after all. What other possible explanation was there? 

"Well, I see you haven't changed much either," Madeline parried, finally composed enough to regain her wit. "Why are you here?" 

"To save you." 

"Save me? From what?" 

"From yourself." Sarah regarded her sympathetically. "Your pain saddens me. Nothing is keeping you in this prison you've created for yourself, except your refusal to reach out to others." 

"What?" 

"My death, and Mother's subsequent reaction, are just handy excuses for you to remain in your comfortable prison, avoiding your fear of the unknown." 

"What do you know about me? You've been dead for over thirty years!" 

"I know what you might have had, what you still have the opportunity to gain." 

Madeline stared at her, her jaw hung slightly open. "What are you talking about?" 

"You'll see." Sarah flashed the most fleeting of smiles. "Tonight, you will be visited by three Spirits. The first will haunt at one o'clock, the second at two, and the third at three. Do as they bid, Madeline, for they are your last chance." 

"Last chance for what?" 

As suddenly as she had appeared, Sarah vanished. Madeline rounded her desk and stood in the spot where her sister had been, feeling nothing but cold air. She glanced at the ceiling; perhaps Section had installed a holo-emitter without her knowledge. Nothing. 

Determined to find a cause for this delusion, she started for Systems. However, when she reached the door, it refused to open. She pounded her fist against it, hoping to attract some attention, but again no one came. Frustrated by her futile attempts, she went to her computer and tried a manual override. Her codes were as useless as her pounding. 

Madeline tapped the communicator on her desk as a last resort. She would sound like an idiot calling Comm and telling them that she couldn't get out of her office, but the benefits outweighed the costs. "Birkoff, can you hear me?" There was no answer. "Birkoff!" 

She sat at her desk again and sighed. A prisoner--in her own office! And she was seeing things on top of that. Maybe Section had been infiltrated and she was actually the only remaining operative. If that was true, someone--friend or foe--would be coming for her sooner or later. There could be a bio lockdown, but she should have received some sort of computerized warning. 

Turning her attention to her computer, she began scanning Section's activity log. Mission updated, briefing scheduled... No word on a bio hazard or a communication failure. It just didn't make sense! She was second-in-command; she should have been one of the first people notified of a change in operations. 

Of course, there was always the possibility that she was asleep, dreaming all of this. That seemed most likely, but why would the Sarah in her dreams say those things? 

Her thoughts were whirring in a circular pattern, feeding on her tormented mind and exhausted body. Unable to keep her eyes open any longer, Madeline fell asleep, her chin in her hand. 

*End of Chapter 1 


	2. Chapter 2 of 5

Title: A Christmas Carol  
Authors: perfectvelvet and ladydrake  
Rating: PG-13 for language and some sensuality, O/Ma 

Disclaimer: The characters from "La Femme Nikita" belong to LFN Productions, Warner Bros., and USA Network, among others. No infringement is intended. This story is a take on the Charles Dickens classic "A Christmas Carol," so some situations have been borrowed from the book. 

_A Christmas Carol_ 2/5  
by perfectvelvet and ladydrake 

Madeline stirred into consciousness. Her head was cradled in her arms, and her body was now slumped over her desk. She stretched a little, stifling a yawn. 

Something wasn't right. 

Frowning, she sat up and found herself staring at a middle-aged woman with short, curly grey hair and crinkled eyes. She wore a tweed business suit, like something Madeline herself used to wear before she went to basic black. It was slightly antiquated, however, like it had been folded up in an attic trunk for years and was just now seeing the light of day. 

"Are you the new recruit?" Madeline asked, straightening her posture. She wasn't exactly sure if there was a new recruit or not, but it sounded more professional than 'Who are you?' 

"If I'm the new recruit, then Section's in some serious trouble." Her voice was deep and gravely, and she drew back on a cigarette before blowing the smoke in her direction. 

Madeline sat back in her chair and glanced at the clock on her computer. 1:10 AM. She turned back to the woman, Sarah's warning echoing in her head. _I'm still dreaming?_ "You're late." 

The Ghost snorted softly. "Yeah, well, I took a wrong turn at the Pearly Gates." 

She stood up and rounded the desk, finding herself almost a head taller than her visitor. "Why are you here?" 

"Did you already forget what your dear sister told you?" she scolded. "I am the Ghost of Christmas Past...but you may call me Prudence." 

It was almost laughable, but Madeline maintained her composure. "The Ghost of Christmas Past. What kind of past, long past?" 

"No. _ Your_ past." She sucked on her cigarette again, and Madeline folded her arms across her chest. 

"Would you not smoke around my plants please?" 

"Why not? Studies have shown that smoking doesn't have any harmful side effects." 

Madeline found herself grinning in amusement at this candid specter but quickly concealed it when she noticed Prudence staring at her intently, as if she was about to say something uncharacteristically serious. 

"Your smile... I've seen it many times throughout the past, but now it's almost nonexistent. Do you remember the exact moment that it disappeared?" 

She stared at her hands in painful recollection, speechless. 

"I will show you that moment, as well as others from your past." 

She lifted her head. "Why bring up something that's long dead?" 

"Because it's not dead if you remember it." She held out her hand, balancing the cigarette between her lips. "Come with me, dear." 

The moment Madeline touched her hand, the world spun and she found herself at a place she never thought she would see again. It was a child's bedroom with two frilly pink beds and dozens of dolls. A woman sat on the hardwood floor next to the bed closest to the door, wailing loudly, clutching a pink blanket. 

Madeline stared at the familiar face. "Mother," she murmured softly. She looked so much older than she was. Madeline recognized the blanket immediately; it had been Sarah's. It was a hand-made gift from her mother to her 'little angel.' Madeline never received such gifts. Sarah was always the favorite, always doted upon. 

She caught a glimpse of the falling snow outside and nodded to herself. It was Christmas. But there were no gifts exchanged that year, no carols or sleigh rides. Just snow. It was the first Christmas without Sarah. 

She turned her attention to the large collection of dolls and noticed one missing. But not just any doll. _Her_ doll. The one that cost Sarah her life. 

She walked around the first bed, her sister's bed, to the other one. A nightstand separated it from the farthest wall, and Madeline took a breath before peeking between the bed and the stand. 

A young girl was nestled between the two pieces of furniture, holding a doll against her chest. Her expression was so hollow, and there was no feeling in her eyes. Madeline leaned against the wall and sighed softly, staring at the child. 

"The interesting days were those when Mother didn't cry," she said quietly. "Then she would just explode at everyone and everything. I used to hide here on those days. But then I began to use it more and more frequently, and I took my doll with me. Mother hated to see it. Once, she threw it in the trash, but I retrieved it and cleaned it up." She chuckled slightly. "Of course I destroyed it a few years later." 

"Of course," Prudence repeated, sucking on her cigarette again. 

"The only thing I loved was that doll," she continued. "And that doll was the only thing that ever loved me back." 

"Now, now, Madeline, aren't we forgetting about someone _ later_ in life?" 

Immediately after her words were spoken, the scene shifted around them, and they were at a different point in Madeline's life. A man dressed in black, carrying a gun, was running toward them, and Madeline instinctively stepped back. The setting was only vaguely familiar, but she couldn't remember why or from where. 

Suddenly, there was a loud boom, and the entire building exploded. Smoke poured from the windows, and bright orange flames began to devour the brick. The man, who had been knocked down from the force of the blast, jumped to his feet, staring at the building in horror. "Madeline!" 

She recognized that voice anywhere. "Paul?" And then she knew. She gasped as the memory of the event came back to her mind; she had never witnessed it from this perspective before. Madeline walked around him to see his face. It was frozen in an expression of pure terror. She followed his gaze back to the building, her heart pounding in her chest. 

"Tell me what's happening, Madeline," came Prudence's voice, which sounded so far away. 

"It..." She released a shaky breath. "It was just an intelligence-gathering mission. We lost our communication uplink with Section. Then Paul found a bomb. Time to detonation...fifteen seconds." She paused, trying to ignore the feelings that surfaced with the memory. "Paul ordered everyone out, but we were all over the complex. And then it exploded." 

Madeline turned back toward the building, and Prudence did the same. Finally, they saw her, coming out of the smoke, pulling the stocking cap off her head. It was Madeline, about twelve years younger. She was limping slightly, staring at the ground and shaking her head. She didn't notice Paul, and he had yet to notice her, his eyes closed as his body trembled with sobs. 

Shocked, Madeline watched her former self as she crossed the courtyard, oblivious to anything but her own emotions. "I was so angry," she recalled quietly. "I was the only one who made it out alive." 

"Not the only one," Prudence reminded her. 

Madeline-of-the-past continued to hobble away from the burning infrastructure, wiping dirt and grit out of her eyes. Paul still choked back his sobs, shaking his head in anguish. Almost simultaneously, they looked up--Madeline to focus on her exit, Paul to watch the destruction-- and their eyes met for the first time since their narrow escapes. She stopped walking and stared at him with the same disbelief that touched his face. 

Paul wasted no time. He jogged over to her and, before she had a chance to say anything, pulled her face to his and kissed her. 

Madeline watched the passionate embrace, her heart a flurry of regret and longing. "That was the first time we ever kissed. We had a mutual attraction that we had never acted upon until then, when we almost lost each other." 

"Mutual attraction. Ha! I'd say a full-blown romance, full of passion and..." She chuckled softly, leaving Madeline to wonder what she was going to say. "Now this next part really gets me all aflame. The Higher Powers didn't think it was pertinent for whatever reason, but I managed to get it approved. I think it was the PowerPoint presentation that sealed it." 

Madeline frowned, turning her eyes toward Prudence. "What are you talking about?" 

Once again the world moved around them, and the breath escaped from her lungs for a brief moment. She and Prudence had arrived in a dark apartment, the only light being that which came from the windows. Various articles of black clothing were strung along the floor, creating a path to the bedroom. Madeline knew exactly where and when they were. 

"You brought me here?" 

Prudence nodded. "Logically, this is the next scene." A wicked grin appeared on her face. "Let's follow the trail left for us by these insatiable nymphomaniacs." 

Madeline walked behind her, as if the Spirit would shield her from the activities in the bedroom. When she passed through the door, her long-dormant feelings appeared with a strength she didn't recognize, and she gasped. "What's...why do I feel like this?" 

"Your present emotions are reacting as they did in this past moment. Did you know you felt like that?" 

"No, I...I had forgotten." In truth, she hadn't forgotten; she had merely buried every affection for Paul deeply in her heart. 

"Explain this scenario to me," Prudence requested. 

Madeline raised her eyebrow. "What does it look like we're doing?" 

"The circumstances, dear. I think even the neighbors knew what you were doing." 

She hesitated. "This is...not long after the explosion. Section didn't know if we were alive or not. The implantation of internal clocks originated with Paul when he took over, so all we had were our communication channels. We..." Madeline swallowed over the lump in her throat. "We didn't want to go back. We couldn't be lovers in Section, so we..." 

Madeline couldn't continue because she found it difficult to breathe. Her eyes remained on her former self and Paul as they made love. She had hidden this memory from her consciousness because of its effect on her, and now she was forced to relive it. It was... beautiful. Their bodies were in perfect harmony with one another. Paul was whispering her name, kissing her face, caressing her body. Madeline sighed and closed her eyes. She didn't need to see it; she remembered every move made and every word spoken. 

Gentle moaning rose from the throats of the lovers, and she opened her eyes again. A blush touched her cheeks, the cries of release sounding even more erotic than they had when she had first made them. Had she always sounded like that, so honest? Making love to Paul was the only time she ever felt safe enough to express her true feelings. 

"Damn, that was good!" 

Prudence's voice startled her, and she looked at her. "What?" 

"Sex in my day was never that exciting. I need a cigarette." She put one between her lips and offered the packet to Madeline. "How about you?" 

She shook her head. "No, thank you." She looked at her former self as she curled up in Paul's arms and kissed him. "That was such a happy moment for me." 

"But it scared you to death," Prudence quickly replied. 

There was no point in lying. "Yes, it did. I spent so much of my childhood alone and unloved that for someone to treat me like Paul did was unnerving. I questioned his motives at least a hundred times. He would get so frustrated with me because he did, truly, love me. I still don't know why." 

"Who can explain love? No one. You just have to live in the moment because it never goes away, no matter how much you want it to..." 

The darkness lifted, and subtleties of the room changed. The bed was made, there were no more clothes on the floor. Madeline could hear voices in the living room, and she started in that direction, wondering where in time Prudence had taken her now. 

"What am I doing wrong?" It was Paul, his voice a bit angrier and louder than normal. They were arguing again. Madeline sighed. If this was the scenario she thought it was... 

"It's not you, it's me." 

"The catch-all explanation," he muttered sarcastically. "Why do we always fight over the same thing?" 

"Paul, don't," she pleaded. "You know I can't." 

"You keep saying that, but I don't understand why! What's so hard about it? It's--" She had turned away from him, and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "You've been so distant since we took over Section." 

"Things are different now," she answered softly, pulling away from his embrace. "We lead different lives, have different goals. It's not the same. _We're_ not the same." 

"_We_ are exactly the same. Madeline, please don't do this. This can't be what you want." 

"I'm sorry, Paul..." 

Madeline had remained silent up until then, watching the events unfold in the same manner as they had years ago. "I don't want to see the rest of this." 

Prudence raised her eyebrows. "Why not?" 

"Take me back to my office." 

"Don't you want to see his reaction after you walk out?" 

Fury sharpened her voice. "You think that seeing this is going to help me? Well, I don't need your help! Take me back to my office!" Prudence remained still. "What, you want me to admit that I ruined my one chance at happiness by walking out that door? Fine! I admit it! But it doesn't matter now! It's too late!" 

By the time she had finished shouting, she was back in her office, and Prudence was staring at her thoughtfully. "It's never too late, Madeline." 

She choked back on her anger and growled deeply, "Get out." 

With a slight shrug of her shoulders, Prudence approached the door, and it slid open. "Merry Christmas, Madeline." She stepped out, the door closed, and Madeline was alone again. 

"I've had enough of this," she muttered, heading for the door. It didn't move. She waved her hand in front of the sensor, but it didn't open. "What?" She banged her fist against the door. "Prudence! Let me out! I don't want to play these games any more!" She sighed. "Prudence? Anybody?" 

She went through the same routine as before: yelling for help, checking the activity log, calling Birkoff in Comm. And once again, she found herself isolated from everyone and everything. 

*End of Chapter 2 


	3. Chapter 3 of 5

Title: A Christmas Carol  
Authors: perfectvelvet and ladydrake  
Rating: PG-13 for language and some sensuality, O/Ma 

Disclaimer: The characters from "La Femme Nikita" belong to LFN Productions, Warner Bros., and USA Network, among others. No infringement is intended. This story is a take on the Charles Dickens classic "A Christmas Carol," so some situations have been borrowed from the book. 

_A Christmas Carol_ 3/5  
by perfectvelvet and ladydrake 

Madeline's shoulders lowered in exhaustion. Her neck and back pulsed with tense energy that had been coursing through her muscles for hours. She needed to relax. Tentatively, she approached the door that led to her private bathroom. It opened without fuss, and she gave a quiet sigh of relief. She always kept a few changes of clothing in the cabinets beneath the sink when it became impossible for her to shower in her quarters. 

She quickly undressed and adjusted the water until it was as hot as she could bear. Steam rose from the showerhead, and she took a deep breath. Finally, something comforting after her evening of painful recollection. It must have been a dream. But why would it have affected her so strongly? And why had Prudence been so real? 

The shower made her feel much better. After drying off, she began to get dressed. As she was buttoning her blouse, she heard a voice. "Yoo hoo! Is anyone home?" 

Madeline reached for her gun, hesitating slightly. She didn't recognize the voice, but it didn't sound particularly threatening either. Still, to be on the safe side, she stood in the way of the sensor, and the door opened. She aimed at the intruder as he came into view. 

The man was looking around her office curiously, unaware of her presence. He was young and handsome (_he'd make a good Valentine operative_, she thought casually) wearing a pair of pleated khakis, a mint green polo shirt, and brown loafers. He looked like the member of a country club. His wavy brown hair was perfectly styled. 

"Who are you?" 

The man jumped and cried out in surprise, holding his hands in the air. "Don't shoot! Oh." He lowered his hands with a quiet chuckle. "I forgot, I'm already dead." 

"Who are you?" she repeated more sternly. 

"I'm the Ghost of Christmas Present. And you are..." He pulled out a notebook and skimmed over a page. "Mabel?" 

She lowered her gun with a frown. "I'm Madeline." 

The man looked at her with a puzzled expression. "Madeline? You're supposed to be Mabel. Oh, well." He sighed with exaggeration. "I guess Mabel won't get to see her present." He regarded her curiously. "So, Madeline... What are you, an accountant? A banker? Perhaps the president of a company?" 

She holstered her weapon and stepped into the room with him. "I'm the chief strategist and second-in-command of a secret anti-terrorist organization." 

"A what?" 

"A spy," she clarified. 

"Oooh, like James Bond?" He frowned again. "You don't look like James Bond. I thought you spies were supposed to be all suave and sexy." 

"I'm not suave and sexy?" she repeated, putting her hands on her hips. 

"Well, that isn't even a designer suit..." 

Madeline shook her head in spite of her situation. "First, I get a chain-smoking woman with some degree of wit. Now I have a fashion-conscious ghost who doesn't think I'm suave or sexy." 

"Oh, you met Prudence!" When the only response he received was a dirty look, he pulled out his notebook again. "Madeline, Madeline... Ah, here you are!" He read the page quickly, turning it over to the other side. "All right. Now that I know a bit more about you, let's see your present." 

He snapped his fingers exuberantly, and Madeline found herself standing by the briefing table, which had been changed into a buffet table. She smiled at the piles of food that graced it. "This looks fantastic!" 

"Yes, this is Nikita's little Christmas party. Not so little, is it?" 

She recovered from her brief enthusiasm. "Oh. Is that what this is?" 

"Why are you so glum? Like you said, it looks fantastic." 

Before Madeline could defend her momentary lapse in seriousness, she felt a slight tremor as a group of operatives actually walked _through_ her on their way to the makeshift buffet table. They began to gather food with only a questioning glance at the Perch above. Madeline recognized them immediately. Clifford, Vance, and Jarvia--all field ops, all a bit obnoxious. 

"They look nice," the Ghost mentioned with a shrug. "All spirited in their Santa hats." 

"Oh, please," Madeline contested. "Vance wouldn't know spirit if it shot him in the foot. His success rate gets lower with every mission, yet he still manages to survive. Jarvia's an ex-prostitute. She was brought in for Valentine skills, but we rarely use her because she's slept with all of our terrorists. And Clifford--well, we won't go into his unearthly love of explosives." 

Laughter erupted from Clifford and Jarvia, but Vance looked extremely irritated. The Ghost clapped his hands together. "Ooh, conflict! Let's go have a look-see." 

As they approached, Clifford began to speak. "How long have you been here, you idiot? Haven't you noticed that no one gives a damn about being in the holiday spirit? I mean, look up at the Perch! Operations approved the whole thing, but he's not even coming down." 

"He's on the phone...idiot," Vance muttered. "He's coming down later, but I know someone who isn't showing up at all." 

"Who?" Jarvia asked, balancing a roll on her mound of mashed potatoes. 

Clifford snorted. "How long have _you_ been here? Who do you think, Jarvia? The Ice Goddess herself!" 

"Who, Madeline?" 

"Who else?" 

Madeline scowled at them. She hated the nicknames that operatives gave her. She tried to think of a few official reasons to have them all cancelled. 

"Look, if there's anyone not in the Christmas spirit, it's you, Clifford," Jarvia defended. "What are you, her daily planner? How would you know if she's coming or not?" 

He shrugged. "Cause she's a bitch." 

Madeline glowered, folding her arms across her chest. 

Jarvia sighed and looked over at Vance. "Well, what do you think?" 

The man hesitated. "Cliff's probably right, Jarvia. Madeline isn't exactly known for her social nature." 

"Hey, leave some food for the seasoned ops, will ya?" Walter pushed over to them with two plates, and they chuckled and walked away. He filled up the dishes, humming a Christmas tune that Madeline couldn't quite place. 

The Ghost grinned. "Let's go with this fellow. He seems more jolly!" 

Madeline followed obediently and watched Walter sit beside Nikita and Michael. The blonde grinned at all of the food on her plate. "This is great, Walter, thanks!" 

"Anytime, Sugar. Are you sure you don't want anything, Michael?" 

"No, I'm not hungry." 

Walter shrugged. "Suit yourself. Christopher and his team of chefs did a great job." 

Nikita chewed on a piece of ham, admiring the decorated common area. "I'm so glad Operations approved the party. A lot of people came, more than I expected!" She gazed at the Perch. "When is Operations coming down?" 

"After he finishes justifying the need for an army-sized buffet to George," Walter joked. 

She giggled for a moment before looking upwards again. "I'm glad he agreed to this. I see him in an entirely different manner now." 

"Come on, Sugar, you know he did it to exercise more control over us, don't you?" 

"Maybe he was just being nice. Did you ever consider that?" 

"You keep telling yourself that. Cause that's exactly what he wants you to think." 

"Regardless of his motives, I'm glad he's coming." She paused. "But I don't see Madeline anywhere. I know he told her about it. Where is she?" 

Walter grew serious. "By the look on Operations' face lately, I would say it's a safe bet she's not coming." 

Madeline frowned. "By the look on his face?" 

The Ghost shrugged in equal puzzlement. "Let's go find out." 

They were suddenly in the Perch, and Paul had just hung up the phone. Now he merely stared out the windows with a soft sigh. Madeline gazed at him. "He's sad." 

"How can you tell?" 

"His face is blank and distant, but his eyes are empty." 

"Whoa, lovers off the port bow!" 

Madeline didn't even hear him as she leaned on the ledge to get a better look at Paul's face. What would make him so sad? He wanted to join the party, didn't he? Or maybe... She sighed. Maybe he wanted to join the party with her at his side. 

"What's that?" the Ghost asked, standing on the other side of Paul. 

Madeline looked down to see him removing something from his jacket pocket. It was a small box, unlike any container she had ever seen. It was an indescribable shade of green, with little vines etched into its sides in a detailed gold trim. 

"That's quite a gift!" mentioned the Spirit. "Any idea who it's for?" 

"I think it's for me," Madeline replied softly. "He was hinting that he had something for me, and I can't imagine him buying something for someone else." 

"What do you think it is?" 

"It could be anything. Paul has a knack for buying something ordinary and turning it into something extraordinary." She smiled, watching him toy with the box, but her grin vanished when Paul sat it on the ledge and walked out of the Perch. 

"Uh oh," the Ghost said. "I guess he's not giving it to you if you don't go to the party... although I get the idea that you'll be missing something even more important than the gift if you don't go. This man obviously loves you and wants you to know that." 

Madeline glared at him. "You know nothing about our relationship." 

"So explain it to me. Why can't you just love him?" 

"Section policy is very much against those types of relationships." 

"Your man is at the helm! Why worry? Besides, you let other operatives be together. Why not allow yourself just one inkling of happiness?" 

He had a point. Madeline paused. "Our relationship could be viewed as a weakness on both our parts." 

"Love can make you stronger! Again, your reasoning behind allowing other operatives to take lovers is so they are more efficient. Wouldn't you become more efficient as well?" 

Damn, he took another one of her reasons and twisted it! "Look, Spirit, I understand that you're trying to be helpful, but don't you get it? Paul and I, we can never be what you're implying. Fate won't allow it." 

"Oh, so you've changed your name to Fate, have you? Madeline, the only thing stopping your relationship is you! I understand that your past was not very loving, but that's why they call it the past. It doesn't have to affect you anymore. I think you understand the depth of Paul's feelings for you but not the value." 

Madeline closed her eyes and was almost tempted to cover her ears, as she had when she was a child. "You're beginning to sound like Prudence. Why don't you go spend the holidays with her? I wasn't even your assignment anyway!" 

The Ghost put his hands on his hips. "Fine. You don't want to acknowledge what you really feel, I can't make you. But I'm sure Mabel would have acknowledged _her_ feelings." 

She looked at him again. "Just get out." 

He shrugged. "All right, I'll go. But remember what you've learned tonight. Think about how important love really is." With a flash of light, he vanished. 

*End of Chapter 3 


	4. Chapter 4 of 5

Title: A Christmas Carol  
Authors: perfectvelvet and ladydrake  
Rating: PG-13 for language and some sensuality, O/Ma 

Disclaimer: The characters from "La Femme Nikita" belong to LFN Productions, Warner Bros., and USA Network, among others. No infringement is intended. This story is a take on the Charles Dickens classic "A Christmas Carol," so some situations have been borrowed from the book. 

_A Christmas Carol_ 4/5  
by perfectvelvet and ladydrake 

Madeline looked around, expecting to be back in her prison-of-an-office. But surprisingly, she realized that she was still in the Perch. The gift box remained on the ledge, and she stared at it curiously. Wondering what was inside, she slowly reached out to touch it. As her fingers approached the box, it began to fade from view. She gasped. _What's happening?_ Her eyes turned down toward the gathering below. Subtle changes occurred, in dress and attendees, and she soon realized that she didn't recognize a single person at the Christmas party. 

She heard someone enter the Perch and turned around. "Paul!" He didn't hear her--evidently she was still invisible--as he stood by the railing and darkened the windows. She glanced at his face. How he had aged... The tenderness in his eyes was gone, replaced with a hollow sadness. She reached out to touch him, moved by his expression, but couldn't bring herself to make contact. 

Her interest in his expression wavered when he reached in his inside jacket pocket and removed a small box. She drew in a breath. It was the wooden box she saw him with just moments before. _So I never received it after all_, she thought. The green had lost its luster and some of the gold had flaked off. He turned it over in his hands, a faraway look in his eyes. 

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. She watched him set it on the ledge again. "No, Paul, don't do that. Just go take it to me!" 

But he didn't do anything. He just stared at it. "Oh, Madeline." 

The sound of his voice startled her, especially since he said her name and didn't know she was there. She backed up and collided into something. Spinning around, she found herself face to face with a figure dressed in a long black cape. She cried out and stumbled backwards again, this time running into the ledge. "Who--who are you? _ What_ are you?" Then she remembered what Sarah had told her. Three Ghosts. This must be the third. A hood covered its face from sight, and all she could see was a skeletal hand peeking out from beneath the long sleeves. 

The Spirit pointed toward Paul, and she looked at him again. Years must have passed for things to be so different. He wasn't even trying to win her over anymore, just holding onto a gift that he wouldn't give. 

"I thought I'd find you up here." 

Madeline turned toward the voice. It was Nikita, surprisingly. She looked much more mature; she had cut her long hair to above her shoulders, and her wardrobe had become considerably more conservative. She glanced back at Paul. He was desperately trying to hide the box. Then he turned around. "Hello, Nikita." 

She smiled and approached him, her hands respectfully behind her back. "Will you be joining us for the celebration?" 

"I don't think so." He sighed and gave her a weak smile. "There isn't much for me to celebrate." 

She seemed to understand his meaning, nodding solemnly. "You've been through some hard times lately." 

"We all have." He sat on the edge of the ledge to get a better view of her. "The two year anniversary of his death is next month. How are you holding up?" 

Madeline frowned. "Whose death?" She glanced at the Ghost but received no answer. 

Nikita shrugged. "Some days are harder than others. Holidays are always the worst, and Michael loved Christmas." 

"Michael's dead?" Madeline asked incredulously. "But how?" Again, no response. 

"Today just makes me miss him even more," Nikita continued. Her voice softened. "But you know all about that, don't you?" 

Paul looked away, affected deeply by her words. Madeline frowned but said nothing, watching him. "I'm going home. Will you keep watch for me?" 

She smiled. "That's what your second-in-command is for." 

"Hey!" Madeline exclaimed, glaring at the Spirit. "Wait a minute. _Nikita_ has my job? That would never happen. Paul hates her. She's completely unqualified..." She sighed when there was no reply. "Okay, fine. If Nikita is second-in-command, then where am I?" 

Paul gave Nikita a quick nod as he picked up his coat. "Thank you." 

"Sure." As he walked away, she called out, "Say hello to your wife for me." 

He hesitated slightly before walking down the stairs. 

Madeline folded her arms across her chest and scoffed. "His _wife_?" Silence. "Who is she? Take me there." 

The scene changed to a small, cozy house that she didn't recognize. There was a wonderful smell coming from the kitchen, but Madeline was more concerned with the opening door. Paul walked in and closed the door quietly behind him. He looked worse than he did when he left the Perch, as if he had battled with some demon along the way and lost. 

"Paul, is that you?" came a tender voice. 

Madeline followed Paul's gaze and saw a petite, relatively attractive woman enter the foyer. They embraced, and she felt a twinge of jealousy. 

"I'm so glad you're home--and early!" the woman said. She looked happier than he did, and Madeline raised an eyebrow at that. "I just made some ham." 

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I only stopped by to get a change of clothes. I'm flying out tonight, I'll be back in the morning." 

"You're leaving me alone on Christmas?" she asked in awe. Then she drew in a breath and regarded him angrily. "Why do you do this? Why do you live in your memories, when everything you could possibly need is right here!" 

Paul closed his eyes briefly and sighed. "I'm sorry, truly sorry, Caroline. I just... I have to go." 

"Won't you let me comfort you?" He turned and walked down the hall. "Paul!" 

Madeline tilted her head to the side. "How did he get like this?" she wondered aloud. "He's so cold and distant. He didn't used to be like that." She glanced at the Ghost. "I don't understand! If I'm not his second-in-command and I'm not his wife, then what am I? What has happened to me?" 

The setting changed once again. They were outside, on top of a hill. It wasn't snowing, so it must have been somewhere with a fairer climate, but there were leaves coating the ground. Madeline looked around curiously. She didn't recognize this place either, and there was nothing specific in the area to hint at a location. She turned her head again and noticed a figure sitting on the slope of the hill. It was Paul, she noted, and she began to walk toward him. 

As she approached, she heard him speaking softly. There was no one nearby--probably not for miles--so she stopped to listen. His words made no sense; he seemed to be talking about Section. Madeline frowned and walked around to his left side to see his face. His eyes held a faraway look, and tears pooled in the corners of them. Again, she felt compelled to reach out and hold him, but she couldn't move. 

She looked around for the Spirit, but it was gone. She felt a momentary surge of panic. Had it abandoned her? She was about to call out until she saw Paul stand up. Was he leaving, too? 

"Caroline says I live in my memories, and she's right. I've lived in the past for so long that I need to live for her now. I hope you understand." He paused, his voice lowering to that of a soft whisper. "But I will never stop loving you." He didn't bother to wipe the tears that fell from his eyes as he bent over and sat something on the ground before walking away, his head bowed. 

She watched him leave then turned back to where he had been seated. What had he left on the ground? Trembling with apprehension, she knelt down to examine the object. The color drained from her face. It was the gift box, with the gold trim. Why would he set it on this hill, unless... 

A sudden gust of wind blew the leaves away from the box to reveal a small cement stone in the ground. She breathed in shallow, quick gasps as she ran her fingers along the plot. She felt an inscription, only one word, a word that was all too familiar to her. 

'Madeline.' 

She cried out and fell backwards, breathing heavily. "No!" She turned over and crawled on her hands and knees to look at the tombstone again. "I'm dead? No, this can't be right! This can't be my destiny!" 

The Ghost appeared once again, towering over her as she knelt at the plot. Steady and silent. 

"Spirit! Why did you bring me here? This can't be right!" 

The Ghost seemed to move away from her. 

"Wait!" She looked at the box. "If I go to the party tomorrow, and he gives me this gift, then he can't leave it on this tombstone in the future. Right?" She gazed up at the haunting figure in search of answers. "Why show me this if there's no way for me to change it?" Something clicked in her mind, and she began to speak faster. "But that's not it. No. This gift is a symbol of Paul's love for me. If I accept this gift tomorrow--or any day--then I am accepting his love. I understand now." She laughed out loud, a great weight suddenly lifted from her. "I understand what you and the other Ghosts were telling me." 

As soon as the words escaped her lips, the Spirit vanished. For a moment, she was speechless. What had happened? Wasn't that the lesson, that she needed to accept Paul's love? Maybe it wasn't enough to understand it, but she had to act on it, too. How could she if she was trapped at her own grave? 

Tears began to fall from her eyes, and she stared in disbelief at the spot where the Ghost had been. "Wait! Where did you go? Don't leave me here! I want to go home. Do you hear me?" Her body shook with anger and fear. What if she could never get back to Paul? What if she never got the chance to tell him how she felt? 

Madeline broke down in a fit of sobs that she hadn't experienced since she was a young girl. She kept repeating Paul's name over and over again, hoping that somehow he would hear her. 

As she continued to call his name, all of the moments they had shared came back to her in one intense wave. The weight that she thought had been lifted was replaced by another, of the love that she had found but could not share. She began to sink to the ground until her face fell against the cold dark stone that bore her name. She continued to cry until exhaustion once again lulled her into a painful and uneasy sleep. 

*End of Chapter 4 


	5. Chapter 5 of 5

Title: A Christmas Carol  
Authors: perfectvelvet and ladydrake  
Rating: PG-13 for language and some sensuality, O/Ma 

Disclaimer: The characters from "La Femme Nikita" belong to LFN Productions, Warner Bros., and USA Network, among others. No infringement is intended. This story is a take on the Charles Dickens classic "A Christmas Carol," so some situations have been borrowed from the book. 

_A Christmas Carol_ 5/5  
by perfectvelvet and ladydrake 

When she awoke, her face was still pressed against a cold surface, but it was not a tombstone. It was her desk! She was instantly awake and looked around, taking in her surroundings. She was, indeed, back in her office. 

Was it all a dream? Or had she really been visited by three Spirits and her dead sister? Did she go on a journey through her past, present, and future? 

Did she even care? 

For the first time in years, Madeline felt truly alive. Whether it was a dream or not, she suddenly knew why she lived and who she lived for. Paul. She loved him--and she wasn't afraid to admit it either. 

She hurried into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her hair and teeth. She had a Christmas party to attend! Cheerily, she approached the exit to her office and stopped short of the sensor. What if it didn't open? What if she was still trapped? 

_If it doesn't open, I'll break it down_, she decided. But to her delight, it opened without fuss and she was on her way. She passed a few operatives by Systems, and she had to work hard to keep her excitement to a minimum. She knew she was glowing, but she couldn't help it. There was too much to look forward to! Unable to hide her joy, she grinned at the operatives, and they looked at her strangely. 

The common area looked somewhat different than the Ghost of Christmas Present had shown it. The briefing table had been converted into a buffet, but Paul was standing with the rest of the operatives, in the middle of a toast. Smiling, she took a glass of wine and headed to his side, where she belonged. 

When he saw her, he stopped in the middle of his sentence, and everyone turned, equally surprised. She ignored the others, grinning only at him. He returned the gaze. "Did you have anything to add?" 

"Actually, I do." She faced the audience and held her glass in the air. "I would just like to remind everyone that Christmas is about three things. Peace...joy..." She heard Paul draw in a breath; apparently, he recognized himself as the source of the quote. Madeline couldn't help but turn to him as she finished. "And love." 

Walter laughed. "I'll drink to that!" 

Although the crowd began to gather their food and chatter excitedly, Paul and Madeline remained locked in a gaze of tenderness and longing, similar to the moment before their first kiss. 

"You came." The pleasant surprise was evident in his voice. "Why?" 

"Can we go somewhere where we can talk privately?" She was hoping that all of the love she had denied him for so long would show in her eyes, and evidently it was understood. The grin on his face broadened. 

"How about your office?" 

"Okay." She let him lead the way, her heart racing. No backing down now... 

Once inside, Paul sat on the edge of her desk and looked at her curiously. "So what did you want to talk about?" 

Madeline slowly walked over to him, and all of her giddiness was replaced by anxiety. How could she even begin to tell him about the feelings that she had been harboring for so long? "I'm afraid I haven't been very fair to you. You've always shared your feelings openly, but I've never given any of myself in return. I thought love would make me vulnerable, and it does...but it also makes me stronger." 

"Madeline--" 

"All of those things I said about Section suffering if we were involved...that was my method of justifying my fear. But I'm not afraid anymore." By this time, they were nose to nose, sharing the same breath. 

"I am," he said softly as her hand ran up his chest. 

"Don't be," came her hushed reply. Their lips met delicately but warmly. She trembled, her pulse racing as she leaned into him and parted her mouth. He slid his fingers into her hair, bringing their bodies together as closely as possible. "Merry Christmas, Paul." 

He reached into his jacket and pulled out an all-too-familiar box. "Merry Christmas, Madeline." 

Excitedly, she lifted the lid and beheld a gift that was just as beautiful and exquisite as the box it had been lovingly placed in. She removed the gold ring from its packaging. "Paul, it's wonderful!" 

"Read the engraving." 

She brought it closer to her face and looked on the inside. "'Love is the only gold.' That's Tennyson, isn't it?" 

He nodded, taking the ring from her and grasping her right hand. "Consider it an anniversary ring. Twelve years ago is when we first kissed." He began to slide it down her finger, but she pulled back. 

"Then you'd better put it on the other hand." 

Tears of happiness collected in his eyes, and his lower lip began to quiver. He slid the ring on the proper finger. The kiss he gave her was unlike anything she had ever experienced with him before, and it left her uncharacteristically breathless. She went to kiss him again, but he put a finger on her lips. "We should go supervise the party. I think one of the operatives brought some home-made eggnog, and I want to make sure everyone behaves." 

Smiling, she took his hand and led him toward the exit. They were so engrossed with each other that Madeline, who was in the lead, didn't even notice that the door was still shut--until she smacked into it. 

"Are you okay? What happened, why didn't it open?" 

"Prudence!" 

"Prudence?" He frowned at her then at the door. 

Madeline couldn't help herself; she burst out laughing, nearly tripping down the stairs. Paul watched her, his eyes wide with surprise. She stopped long enough to catch her breath then giggled some more. 

"Madeline?" 

She sighed deeply, a wide grin on her face. "We're trapped." 

"And that's funny?" 

The question made her laugh again. "It's...great." 

"Why?" 

She wrapped her arms around his waist and murmured against his lips, "Forget the party, Paul. Let's make some merriment of our own." 

*The End*  
Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated :) 


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